Atlas Astray
by Shadowfire2013
Summary: Upon the duty of the few, rests the peace of the many. PreKotor
1. Chapter 1

Atlas Astray

_Upon the duty of the few, rests the peace of the many. _

The mantra that bars the prison of conscience still echoes strongly in the confines of my mind.

The first step is so very easy because of it. The droid side of me, capable and analyzing, begins orchestrating the movements of my body in perfect tandem with my all too weak flesh.

The second step and gravity seems to bear down on me, my bones aching as my footsteps pound the floor.

The third step and the guard is already dying, his disbelieving eyes only serve to ask me-"Why?" Absurdly, I almost tell him, but my words evaporate as the light behind his eyes dim to nothing.

The fifth step and a lump is in my throat.

The doors slide apart seamlessly, exposing an apparently stunned cadre of puffed up dignitaries and tray laden servers.

The sixth step, and I can see the Duke, his body tensed like a sand panther about to pounce, his bloodstripes making the resemblance all the more uncanny. … and there's a small girl attached to his wrist, with delicately small hands and soft almond eyes.

I bring my blaster to bear but by the time scarlet death disgorges, spearing through Alderannian silk and flesh, the Duke is already a blur, his daughter forced to the ground.

I bite back a curse as I sprint past the slumping bodies and lose count of my steps.

The duke returns fire, the energy bolts streaking past me, leaving charred hair atop my head. And then my right leg… disappears, a numbing presence now taking the place of muscle and sinew. I'm able to limp into the kitchen before a blaster bolt carves a crater in my back.

I glance at my leg. A chunk of my thigh is missing, smoke still wreathing the air. That's when it starts to hurt, like a fusion engine uncut. If I hadn't been wearing armor…

He's firing every few seconds, keeping me suppressed, and probably counting down the seconds until security arrives. For a moment, I'm almost glad that the security system crashed not five minutes ago.

Almost.

There's a pause….the girl. He's going for his daughter. My teeth clench down hard, clamping down the flame erupting from my leg as I push off the floor.

I round the corner, and he's already in front of her, the shadows in the maw of his blaster turning scarlet. I only need three steps….

One….

His first shot goes wide. The wall behind me explodes, dust rising into the air.

Two….

My free arm extends as if to catch the strike and my eyes meet his… there lies only fire.

Too late.

Searing light….

Three…

My arm twists the barrel off, dark circuitry smiling in the light, my blaster finding purchase next to his beating heart. He utters a quite prayer… and then his body shivers and turns heavy, collapsing to the floor. I wait for the world to crush me, another wrong added to its weight.

It doesn't.

A small whimper flutters across my skin. The girl is on the floor; her father's glazed eyes staring through her.

She can't be older than eight. I close his eyes; no child should see that.

She looks at me….as if I were some horror from the fairy tales read to her by her doting father.

_Upon the duty of the few, rests the peace of the many._

Tears are etched into her pearly skin as I place the blaster to her head….

I close my eyes, and the room vanishes, leaving me in the dark… alone.

The last step….

My arm recoils…

…. is always the hardest.

I limp to the speeder parked on the roof above me…

….and I fly into the red-orange sky.

The tears never leave my eyes.


	2. Exorsus

Disclaimer- Star Wars, Kotor, & Kotor II are property of Lucasfilm, Bioware, and Obsidian respectively. This writing is not intended for profit of any kind and no infringement on copyright has been intended

Authors Note- Well, I hope you all enjoy reading this and reviews are always welcome.

Chapter 2

_Exorsus_

Nails dig into the palm of my hand, a slight trickle of blood dampening the pale skin.

I'm stare down at thousands of them – no tens of thousands- wrapped in fading fabrics and surrounded by cold, unyielding durasteel.

I can smell their anguish even through the transparisteel window, an eddy of vapid sweat and failing flesh. Many of them amble with bent backs and shuffling steps. Scores of them don't walk at all.

Some are human. Others are strange, their scales and fur relaying how inhuman they truly are. They all move in the same way, the weight of their homelands squarely on their backs. They are broken.

They're all refugees…

Nine months of peace and yet here they remain…

I can hardly believe it has been that long.

I take a long drink from the bottle of Telosian whiskey that I grip so tightly in my left hand; I fear the glass will shatter. It courses down my throat, and liquid fire waters my eyes. The reflection in the window is strong enough for me to see the various troupes of intoxicated people behind me, attempting to remain ignorant of the outside world. I try to join them, the contents of the bottle finding my mouth once again.

I wipe the trickle of blood on my palm onto a tavern cloth.

A man clad in an ash colored jumpsuit and dark boots pauses for a moment inside the doorway. His eyes stroke the back of my neck for a moment before his feet carry him off to the private booths in back.

Fawkes…

I hand the barkeep a few creds and make my way to the back, strolling with no urgency, while deftly dodging falling forms and shifting chairs.

I close the door behind me and take a cushioned seat opposite the man, his eyes unwavering amber orbs. His hands are locked together, resting firmly in his lap. It does little to reassure me. The intonation in his tone is the sole indication of his displeasure, hard as the glaciers of Mygeeto, "Your performance was underwhelming."

A girl with tears etched into her pale flesh crosses my mind. I push it down, the effort taking more from me each time.

He continues uninterrupted, "Why didn't you take them earlier?"

"The Duke wasn't with them," my voice is dry to my ears, from neglect I imagine.

"He was with them at the Senate."

I shake my head, "Security was too tight." It's mostly true.

The pallid skin around his arched cheekbones stretch, muscles clenching. My stomach tightens, a knot forming in the center.

I almost let out a sigh. "There were Jedi."

His eyes narrow for a moment before he shakes his head. I had told him when we first met that I don't deal with the Order. He never pressed the subject but it looks like that is about to change.

Relief floods into my chest when he glances down and changes the subject. He pulls a datapad from a side pocket, and my hand flexes to my holstered blaster involuntarily. He merely looks at it as I unclench my fingers and the blaster falls back into its holster.

"The credits have been transferred to your account," His voice is crisp, firm. "This is the next assignment we want you to take."

I take hold of it, its dark screen lit up with leaden viridian data.

My mouth parts open slightly, my back stiffens. I tear my eyes from the information as a kernel of fire goes into my words, "He died aboard the _Majestic _three years ago." I had seen the wreckage myself, metal plates strewn across the Force forsaken lunar landscape for dozens of miles.

He's almost smug, "No, check the video footage."

I do. I recognize the face immediately. He's grown a beard and he's thinned down to a memory of his former glory. I don't want to even think about the layer of… grime covering his skin. But it's him, without a doubt. I would know him anywhere.

Fawkes stands up abruptly, one hand smoothing out the creases in his jumpsuit, the doorway nearly touching him. My head turns, focused on the nape of his neck, "The rendezvous coordinates are on the datapad," He announces to the door, "Payment will be delivered upon completion, as usual."

His head twists to look at me from the axis of his neck, the glare of the light hiding his eyes, "And Jash… that guilt you're carrying? Eject it out the nearest air lock. The Republic can't stand to have its pillars crumbling."

He leaves.

I stay.


	3. Peccatum Tacituritatis I

Chapter 3

_Peccatum Tacituritatis I _

I can't stop running.

The light of a thousand stars are my only witness as dust trails into the distance behind me. If I were to stop, if I were to let my mind be overtaken by the silence that pervades this desolate world…

Best not think about it.

My lungs cry out in hunger, the air too thin and light for my unaccustomed body.

I focus on everything else. I concentrate on the comforting presence of the armor that leaves no skin or hair uncovered; on the surprisingly light weight of my arm as it moves to and fro; on the odd gaiting sound of the sack that rattles against my back.

An eternity passes….

I find myself at the edge of a cliff, shadows merging seamlessly with the facility's gaping maw, copper earth making it seem like some ancient battleground.

The macrobinoculars in my helmet begin to adjust, and once vague features rise to prominence.

My forehead tightens as I come across the muted monoliths, barrels pointed sky ward. Class IV turbolaser batteries. And where there are turbolasers, there are sure to be less well-defined defenses…

I silently wonder if the Hutts use the batteries to keep enemies at bay, or prisoners in place.

A cold vacuum begins to fall, the ground around me settling, and my gaze shifts from the trailing form of a hovertrain as its bays open to droid controlled barges brimming with spice.

My mouth tightens when I see the hordes of slaves herded together like so many nerfs, guards prowling along the capricious perimeter with akk dogs in tow, salivating in wait for an ill-fated prisoner to part from the masses.

I watch as one unfortunate individual, a twilek with shriveling lekku, stumbles to the floor. He doesn't even attempt to get up as the guards surround him in a heartbeat, his face a mural of defeat.

A single heeled boot flies out, and the orgy of violence begins.

Echoes of jeers and cheers rock the walls…

A blade flies from air to earth…

Smiling teeth tinged with meaty remnants…

Scarlet blood trickles down the walkway, the dirt of a thousand footprints turning it dark…

Somewhere, a voice cries out for me to act. My muscles ache with sudden tension. My breathing becomes short and shallow. Sweat beads on my brow and my chest shudders under the hammer pounding against it.

I swallow hard, and respond with the mantra, the cool slave that t hrust s frailties into the dim reaches of the universe...

My breathing slows and the hammer recedes.

I turn to the bundle of equipment that lies dormant at my feet, my fingers unlocking the simple clasps with practiced ease. It opens, a transparent cable no thicker than the size of my thumb wrapped around two durasteel nails, their edges sheathed. And there, hugging the base of the polymer is a machine awash in smug indifference.

I pull the metal rods free, their faces smiling brightly until I lay them down, side by side.

I leave the chord as I position the machine footsteps away from the edge, its stocky form not flinching from the abyss.

A nail rises above it and just as suddenly I find it embedded through the hole into unforgiving rock, pebbles jetting so quickly into the air that my eyes blink of their own accord.

I do it again, my eyelids unwavering.

Then I pull the wire tight around the machine's central bar, a slight tug from my hand clipping it to the buckle hugging my waist.

I glance for a second at the dock once more, puddles of blood the sole relics of savagery.

I breathe, the light of the stars no longer touching me, and I exhale.

I step off the cliff, my feet digging into the wall, shoulders nearly rejoicing at their light burden

And little by little, I descend into the darkness…


	4. Peccatum Tacituritatis II

Chapter 4

_Peccatum Tacituritas II_

My muscles tighten briefly as my feet impact the roof, a murmur flying out into uncaring air before dying without a soul to attest to its vapid life.

I disconnect the cable loop and thrust it into a fissure without a thought before I flow into a crouching run, the holsters along my waist vibrating with each step. One … two…

Gradually, the background narrows until the monolith is all I can see, the shadows indistinguishable from the unshakeable menace of the hum that surrounds it, energy stored and aching for blessed release.

One hundred and thirty four…

A heartbeat, and my feet stop at the access door that dutifully stares out into the sky. I reach behind my head, pulling the transfer cable out between my thumb and forefingers before I jack it into an empty slot. I don't spare it a glance.

Icons and color flash to life on my HUD like a thousand stars gone nova.

A puff of air escapes my parted lips and coalesces against the visor, sallow mist staining my view of the world.

It's a Verpine security system.

I send a few probes, tiny photonic particles streaming down miles of metallic pathways, burning… existing…

….Until they collide with the security barriers, programs bypassing their feeble encryption codes and feeding on the data as if they were creatures happening onto water after suffering through the desert as the stars mocked from above.

The memory of a smile pulls on the area around my mouth.

I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier.

It only takes me a few seconds to adjust the suit, the energy current flowing from the cloak and bio functions into the processor. Vaguely, I begin to feel an iceless frost wrapping around me, my breath coming a little shorter, needles all the sharper.

With that, I send an army--millions of data streams batting against the walls, clamoring for entry. The skin at the nape of my neck begins to burn, heat venting against the available surface.

By the time I blink, the screens are no longer assimilating the data, their behavior changing into a defense protocol more intent on preservation than knowledge.

My soldiers begin to explode, darkness taking the place of their light.

As the pitched battle takes place, I take a back door, a program that is no longer under guard--the sewage control--and traverse through it until I'm able to come up to the security system…

The scent of meat broiling reaches my nose as the suit attempts to correct for the overheating cpu…

And … there.

I insert a passive action string to allow me free movement within the network, and delete the recording files of the skirmish. Before I eject myself out of the system, I open the access door at my feet, a faint sound of detaching locks cracking the air.

My skin's peeling…

I throw open the panel, revealing a shaft that is only fitted with a simple ladder and various open access panels, climb down the first few rungs and tear my helmet off. The world changes from detail to nothing, the shadows fog-like as my eyes adjust.

Ever so gently, I put the helmet between me and the wall, my stomach pushing against it as my hand feels its way to my neck.

My teeth come together hard, my jaw turned tight, as the curses are kept unreleased. The only consolation that I can take is that I managed to bring a few kolto patches along with the meds I carry.

I close my eyes as I feel the plant extract work its will, chemicals filtering into the depths of the wound like a dive into wild water, cold and natural.

A few minutes later, I return the visor to its rightful place as I clamber down, my diagnostic program unflinchingly informing me that I'll have to reroute functions to the less efficient secondary processor. My eyes don't widen in surprise or horror, eyelids descending instead until I exhale ever so slightly.

It's already a long day.


	5. Peccatum Tacituritatis III

Chapter 5

_Peccatum Tacituritatis III_

The guard hasn't stopped wheezing for the past twenty minutes and the weapons in my holsters beseech me to end his torment with the simple tug of a finger.

But as always, that mantra, droid like in all its glory, shakes its head and binds my limbs to the task at hand, manacles weighing them down. And so it is, when the noise of life diminishes into the vacuum of space, when all I am left with is the pounding of my still beating heart, I curse it.

For it was the sole voice that robbed me of my sleep when I had stared upon my assassin's tools that still hang from my waist, mocking me with tales of traitors and murderers.

I shake my head, the movement casting away any further distractions as I move past an additional array of holocameras.

We continue past another security gate. That makes five checkpoints, ten ray shield traps, and dozens of Mark IV assault droids, embedded in open compartments along the pathway…

I've only walked through the two upper level sections.

Another rasp followed by a muttering of Outer Rim epitaphs, their high pitch oscillating among the molecules in my head driving my mind to pained horror. We've arrived at the main security center, and he's inputting sequence after sequence to no avail into the interface, the viridian light grinning at him.

The doors split down the center, durasteel plates dragged apart by unyielding pistons. Standing there is a Weequay with twitching wrinkles, his face covered in layers of puckered flesh that make him seem like some mummified corpse newly awoken. From the way his fingers wrap around the hilt of his vibrosword, he's probably thinking the same thing I am.

He pushes the plump guard back with a shove to his overburdened chest plate. He snarls with bared teeth "I told you to remember the pass code, Jo. Do you think the boss doesn't punish me when I let you into your post?" He spits on him as I sidestep out of their path, Jo stepping back until he's pressed to the wall, his pal close enough for their heads to touch.

The bantha masquerading as a human tries to say something, his unshaven jowls rippling, but by that time I'm already bypassing them and heading through the open gate, the waves let loose by my footsteps, dampened to the ticking of a heart by the ESDS.

I step into the center, the pentagonal room filled with all manner of panels and display screens, the unchanging faces of walls and weapons mocking the resplendently ragged masses in their huddled quarters. My steady pulse turns vivace, the vein stretched along my neck beating as if it's about to sprint.

A few deep breathes absolve me of the weakness.

As he plods in, a sliver of scarlet coalescing around the thin line at his temple, I make my way to the room marked only by a caution sign with stripes the color of vomit. I can already hear the howls driving me forward.

I find myself staring down at a pack of akks, their blaster resistant scaled hides only slightly less intimidating than the rows of serrated daggers smiling at me. The one that looks like some armored transport stares at me and begins to drool, the rest follow suit. The corners of his jowls lift menacingly as he begins to growl and the rest follow his lead. On a hunch, I assume that's the alpha male.

I pace around the railings and they twist their bodies, never showing me their backs. Either I'm exuding some baseline scent that they find attractive or they actually have the fabled Force sense that smugglers have been preaching to anyone who'd listen.

Whatever the case, I'll need to deal with them sooner rather than later. If I were to run into these things during the morning patrol, I might last a few seconds at best.

A shiver best left unnoticed.

I return to the center only to find the wheezer's boots parallel to the walls, the chair straining to hold his bulk as a white cloth presses against his face, damp with fluid.

I come up behind him and pause.

Does he have children? Before he sleeps, do regrets touch his mind about who he is? Do his parents look on their holos with pride? Does he… I let these thoughts churn through my mind, pushing me to the floor until I can feel my shoulders slumping, muscles tense with strain…

And I let them go.

Breathing comes easier after that.

I pull the hypospray from my belt and insert one of the capsules I've brought along into the open slot. A click informs me of its readiness.

One…Two…I eject its contents into the blood vessels around his neck. His free hand shoots out to hit the metal with a grunt, "What the…."

He falls out of the chair, his face saved by his extended palm, the clothe falling from it, as his boots slam against the console, gliding to the floor like a bantha jumping off a cliff .

I shake my head as he tries to unstrap his weapon, calloused hands unable to open the simple clasp as the agent begins to take effect. He should be losing the feeling in his limbs by now.

He curses as he tries to push off with a leg only to find that he can barely reach the height of the chair. He collapses again and I watch as his body moves from uncontrolled spasms to blissful silence of the physical shell.

I link up with a panel and shut off the recording devices sown throughout the room like pollen carried across the plains by storms that rivaled continents.

The light finds me.

I take his blaster first, crushing the barrel, and then I lift him up by the shoulders, my fingers finding little grip in the dense rolls, sagging against gravity.

By the time I put him back in the seat, drool runs onto my suit leaving a refuse of transparent matter discoloring the polished, iron tint. His eyes are wide, insomniac to his body's slumber.

I don't say anything, leaving my intentions to his imagination, as I delve back into the network. I find it almost ironic that the ability to imagine, to wonder about the future and all that it contains can be the cause which changes loyalty to betrayal.

Love to hate.

I use the passive string I inserted earlier to download the various security protocols and passwords into my CPU. I curse with my clenched fingers.

I can't find the activation code for the explosive buried in each prisoner's chest. My forehead furrows.

I pull the chord out, turning my attention back to him, his lips starting to move, vertically and horizontally.

Before he can so much as mouth a syllable, I pull the knife out and place it inches near his eyes, his blood mixing with the sweat falling from his damp hair. "You're going to answer a few questions of mine…"


	6. Peccatum Tacituritatis IV

_Peccatum Tacituritatis IV- Part II_

In between the gasps that escape from open lips, there is a silence that hangs around my neck. A noose which is slowly cutting off my air…a taut circle of rope sometimes called remembrance.

* * *

_Well if it ain't the little bantha who couldn't. Is this your guy's new style of intimidation? Send in Mr. I'll do better next time? Cause I gotta tell you- from one professional to another- that it ain't too effective. Look, I'm not even shivering in my jimmies._

_I was granted special dispensation by the commanding military authorities due to my-_

_You mean you had to go ask your Grandad for special approval? Yeah, yeah don't give me that look. You think a guy like me doesn't know about all the little webs you Eresians have between each other? To be honest, I'm kinda sick of it. For once, would it be too much for y'all just to get where you are without relying on those damn familial connections? I mean some kid could be looking up to you guys and—bam!—the moment he gets all high and hopefull about how he's gonna do what he wants and all that crap, he's gonna get the proverbial beating of his life._

_So says the man who works with slavers and pirates. Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted, I have been authorized to interrogate prisoner one-two-five-nine-three, captured during the raid on the orbiting station Manticore for-_

_Helping some old ladies get their porcelain dolls from one of them cargo bays?_

_-smuggling goods prohibited under the Republic Code of Commerce and for inciting and abetting activities contrary to the stability of society-_

_It's called the freedom of speech Jashy. Republic Coda number one. And you can forget about all this poodooo: 'I'm the big bad man who's telling you what you did wrong because some old stooge who can't see the tip of his own nose decided that it was wrong.' Skip to the interesting part cause this opening act is boring me to tears._

…_.If that will make you more cooperative. Name?_

_Naga Sadow. _

_Name?_

_Vima Sundrider. You know the one with the pouty lips and the rack the size of a-_

_Name?_

_Jash Tahannuth. Honestly Jashy, you think I'm gonna sit here and be all nice to some rich snob who got in this room by running to Granddaddy with little tears running down his cheeks? Kriff no. Hell, I wouldn't be nice to you even if you weren't some damn familial appointee. _

_You're not making things easy. If you continue to be disagreeable I'll be forced to-_

_Forced to break every bone in my hands? Well here they are? All fifty two of them. I counted them myself while I was waiting, just in case. But I gotta say, if Daggart wouldn't talk after you spazzed out on him, I sincerely doubt anything you do will put me over the edge._

_And why is that?_

_You want to me list them alphabetically, kid? Or how about numerically? One, in a week or so, I'm outta here whether you like it or not. Even you Eresians won't hold a guy in prison indefinitely without giving them hearings. cause if you don't did, and the Reppies hear about your "Ethical Breach," you guys will lose your funding for all…this. Two, my 'value', to y'all , goes to approximately zilch in a little while, and if you don't want to have to deal with some…nuisances, you'll have to let me go into that fresh outdoors of yours. Third Jashy, you don't have the family jewels to do anything to me—not anything really dirty and down and low. None of your Eresians do. Oh you guys spout out the whole '"We do what we need to do'" philosophy, but it's all a bluff and I'm calling you guys on it._

_Is that so?_

_Oh, you gonna give me the pity glance there, junior?_

_No. I just wished you'd have had listened to reason._

_Well go ahead Jashy. Impress me._

…

_You're not gonna use your own hands to hurt me Jashy boy? I'm crushed._

_I won't need to. All I'll be forced to do is ask a question and if you refuse to respond, pull this switch here. _

_And what happens then?_

_You die._

_Oh is that all? You show me a machine and tell me I'll die if I don't answer correctly? Your presentation really needs a shining kid. Really._

_What's your name?_

_Qel Droma._

_Enjoy the beyond, one-two-five-nine-three. I'll see you in a minute._

* * *

"Would you like to hear a story?" The question's rhetorical but if he were in any other position, I'd prefer to think he'd appreciate the gesture of civility. Most people do. 

He writhes on the floor like a dying snake that's been nailed to the ground. Wild, and uncontrollabley, he thrashes about, his face a showmanship of maddened eyes as the gag muffles his screams to mere conversational levels. It wouldn't doue for either of us to become deaf or for anyone else to hear him, what little chance there is of that.

I clear my throat with a harrumph for it has seen little use these past weeks aside from serving as a conduit to the ale that sits comfortably in storage "One day, in the manner of all great scientific studies, an array of biologists were forced to decelerate from hyperspace to make repairs to their ships after a blowout in their engines and while they floated in the cold abyss, praying that they'd be able to make it home, a promising young student, known for being a firebrand, decided to scan the system not merely for signs of civilization, but also for anything of interest. To his surprise, he found that the fifth planet was filled with bio-mass and other various subjects each entitled with its own scientific jargon, and assembled an expedition."

The guard writhes again, involuntarily of course, and I'm forced to pull him closer so that his ears won't remain ignorant. "What they found there was exhilarating and in no small part, terrifying. The planet was mainly composed of land which itself was made of what could only be described as an unending forest of giant trees which that pierced the sky and camouflaged the silky webs of the planet's main carnivore. For you see, this planet was home to a race of giant arachnids, the size of Basalisk droids and the color of rotting skin left to on the ground. And they spun webs, marvelous creations that stretched for dozens of clicks in every direction."

"The researchers marveled at this display and wondered. 'How could animals of such girth survive when they seemed to be so sedentary?' They probed for answers, of course, and it was only through the help of the firebrand that they came to an answer. You see, their webs perform three vital functions." I lean back in the chair and let my back collapse against it with forced care befitting a newborn child.

"For one, the webs capture prey much like any other of their brethren with an adhesive that's remarkably strong. Supposedly, even a Krayt Dragon would have difficulty if itn entangling entangled itself. But that's not all. You see, the adhesive was not the only coated substance for on top of the adhesive, there was a thin film of poison no thicker than a hair. The firebrand was lucky enough to discover this rather important fact, but that's for later. And lastly, the web could also serve as a communications relay, transmitting sensory information like sound among other things to the creature, enabling it to home in, if you will, on its captured prey whenever it so desired."

I sigh and pull him off the floor and into the empty chair that my back groans for. His pants are dripping wet below his belt and I'm careful to avoid touching it. I snap my fingers, as if remembering a forgotten point. "Oh! the The firebrand discovered all this when he briefly handled the captured web specimen. Not ten minutes afterwards, he lost control of his autonomic nervous system save for his voice, which seemed like a cruel joke for he screamed and hollered and the other biologists were forced to stuff his mouth, much like what I've done to you." His eyes travel along my face plate, looking for reprieve, for hope.

"They managed to find a cure, but by that time the poison had already worked its way into his most basic, primal functions- those which allow us to live- and his life was snuffed short."

"For you see…" I inch my visor closer to his face, enough so that the sweat could begin to traverse onto it, "This …this poison is more akin to a virus. It never stops, never _truly_ stops, that is. And once it….finishes its assigned task, it branches out…."

"You see where this leads. But luckily enough…" I pull back and extract a transparent cylinder from a pouch in the suit, "…I happen to have the antivirus right here. So." I lean back again and cross my arms, " Would you rather die, or part with some information?"

He grimaces and his eyes attempt to nod, so I pull off the gag.

"What…do you…want to know?"

My answer is simple. "Everything."

* * *

_How…many times have you done this…Jashy?_

_You don't get to ask the questions here. That lies within my domain._

_Oh yeah kid… kinda forget in between the… death and not death thing you got going…._

_Who was planning to attend the Exchange exchange meeting being held two days from now?_

_Sure….I'll tell you…._

* * *

The guard gives tells me everything. Codes, guard rotations and shifts, prisoner schedules. He even tells gives me an all too complete picture of the Hutt that owns the facility—a member of the Dejaric syndicate named Guora. I doubt the image of corpulent flesh festooned with _more_ corpulent flesh will soon be free from my head. 

I show him the hologram of the bearded man--the one who's gaunt bones attack my eyes and pierce my heart in savage displays that leave my knees weak.

His face…twitches, . "That…prisoner…? He's…over in….Cell Theta Six….the special detention area….rabble rouser...couldn't kill him… be forced to kill all the rioters…."

"Thank you." I clasp my hands around his neck, dig my fingers deep enough to bruise and twist…hard as my gaze drifts to the displays. It makes a rather meaty noise and the body collapses to the floor where I then pull the corpse into the Akk Den. They can smell the death in the air and from what he told me before his passing, he'd yet to feed them. The dead man goes flailing across the railing into the pit and within moments, they're feasting. Two problems solved with a single act.

How….efficient.

I code lock the security gates behind me and march onwards with only my heartbeat and steps humming in my ears..

* * *

"_Would you like a drink Jash?" he asks as he fills his hands with the two crystalline glasses that seem to dance in the light, twin flickering notes in a Coruscanti Waltz. The cups aren't too hard to recognize. They were gifts from father__, the first of many steps that led to their public reconciliation. His eyebrows cock upward into the valleys of his forehead, as if questioning my lack of timely retort. But for this man, his expressions are loose sediment over a layer of bedrock. Underneath the mountain ranges lies a simple communication from him to me, a silent declaration of ownership and control._

"_My apologies. Yes, I would like a drink, sir." The words come out smoother than expected and are significantly less forced._

"_Here." He puts the glasses on the table between us, reaches into the cooler that opens into the air with a comfortable sigh and pulls out a thin bottle, tinted with gold ornamentation. "Let's try out this little number." His eyes find mine "A gift from the predecessor of our current Tsar for dedication above and beyond the call of duty." _

"_Something to be quite proud of, sir," my response clarifies even though my throat still has that acid stench burning like a dying fire._

"_Very." The cooler shuts and with one smooth twist, the cap comes off and remains in his palm, "And something for others to think upon when they stand on a precipice between a defeat called dishonor and a victory named dignity . Don't you agree?" An implied accusation._

"_What do you mean, sir?" I pause slightly to accentuate the point._

"_How about I give you an example?" he says as he steps over and slowly pours the amber liquid into the glasses, his calloused hands neither shivering nor twitching. "Say there was a man tasked with an unenviable task…something like killing another in an effort to save others who are innocent of the crime that would be perpetuated on them." He stops, leaving a line slightly taller than my finger in each crystal glass. "The task itself is something to be ashamed of, as are all conflicts wherein violence becomes the sole method by which civilization is stabilized. But the result? That is something to be upheld as a model of citizenry. Not something that should be a shamed of."_

_I grasp the glass in my hand and let my fingers trail down the hundreds of facets inlaid into the cup. They're clean, and pure and transparent and if I look at a part of it for long, I can see all the mryriad colors of light shimmering through as long as I don't let my eyes drift to the amber brown settling at the bottom. "Is this your way of telling me I should sleep well tonight?" _

"_In a manner of speaking, Jash." He sits down, but even though we're at eye level now, he stills seems to tower over me…but that's nothing new. Once a child, always a child they say._

"_I…" wish I hadn't killed him so many times? that the other man's bones did not bear the remnants of my failure? _

"_I…"_

_He continues, "After all, I thought you wanted to be an altair. And to the best of my recollection, the one thing that they don't do is regret."_

_I freeze. My muscles tightens, my mouth falls open and my heart hiccups briefly. "Last time we discussed that, your response was somewhere along the line that they were merely unthinking animals who's behaviors were solely dominated by instinct and emotion ." _

_His forehead inclines again. "And who says that my opinion has changed?"_

_I stand up, and my hand is trying to crush the crystal. "I… have other duties to perform today sir. May I be excused?"_

_He frowns. "You want to leave already? I was so looking forward to celebrate my grandson's continued improvements…Go on then but don't think you can avoid talking with me Jash." He drains the drink with a slow, languid sip._

"_Thank you sir." I move towards the door after a curt bow but as my foot crosses the threshold his voice finds me once more._

"_And don't worry Jash, I'll be calling in that favor you owe me soon enough."_

_I know grandfather…I know._

* * *

My heart is crashing against my chest, constantly beating against the cage that holds it in bondage. My breathing is steady and strong and my chest compresses … and expands every few seconds… but my fingers…they're trembling as I push the access code in, number by number… 

Then the door opens and I find that I no longer need worry about that, for he sits on the ground in tatters staring up at me. "Tsar Oleksiy, I'm here to save you."


End file.
